Escape
by Lolita Disdain
Summary: Hogwarts has resumed under Headmistress McGonagall.  All seventh years have returned for a formal finalization of their schooling.  Draco Malfoy returns by request, but will this year go smoothly or will the stories overrule the truth?  DHr.
1. Return of the Ferret

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. JK Rowling does. Oh how I wish I did, however. -smirks-

Comments: Happy Christmas to the one who introduced me to the wonderful world of Dramione fics, Brittasia! Enjoy!

ooo

**Escape**

Chapter One- Return of the Ferret

Draco ran his fingers through his hair, covering the bruises that tainted his porcelain skin. His owl hooted softly in the corner, pleading with his master to join him at the desk. Draco ignored the animal and stared at his reflection in the lavish silver framed mirror on the opposing wall. He never knew saying no to his parents would require him a week in Madame Pomfrey's care. He limped toward his armoire, taking out a neatly pressed white dress shirt and slipping it on over his severely scarred flesh. He had hoped he would not have to return to Hogwarts after the war subsided, but he did. He returned solely because he had no where else to go. His mercury eyes met the floor in sadness. So many lives were lost…so many lives of those who deserved to live and yet here he was standing in the lavish room of the Head Boy with a million and one questions and doubts running through his head. Why him? Of the most hated individuals in his Year, why had he been chosen as Head Boy? He understood Hermione Granger being selected as Head Girl. She was, after all, a far better witch than anyone had ever really expected. Of course they knew she was quite gifted, but none ever suspected the things that arose from her the night Voldemort attacked. But Draco Malfoy? He was not one to be celebrated. His announcement was surprisingly well received despite his assumptions.

His parents' money was lost; the entire fund supplied to the failed attempts to maintain the Death Eaters. What they never realized was that Draco had an account of his own, saving away what money he was given in a vault that could not be tied to him save by the recognition of the Goblins of Gringotts. His vault was one that had not been looted after the near demolition of the bank. He was well-off still and could not complain about that. His parents, however, were infuriated. Even his mother who had tried so hard to love her son as every mother should had finally turned on him in support of her husband. So Draco sought the comfort of the only place he could truly call home. Harry never realized just how similar their lives really were. Certainly Draco grew up in an entirely different environment, but neither had ever really been loved before they entered Hogwarts.

"_Draco! Honey, come here! You'll ruin your coat that way. You know how your father wants this portrait to be perfect! Come now!" Narcissa called, her tone sweet but filled with annoyance at her five year old son. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, come here now! You are dirtying your clothes and I will not tolerate that!" she snatched the boy up by his coat and hurried him off to his father to be handled. He knew quite well he could shed no tears; they were not permitted in the Malfoy house. He had learned not to play in the mud that day. He had learned his lesson well._

Draco finished getting dressed in silence. His mind was still and his owl had finally concluded that he would not be visiting him any time soon. He debated on slicking his now chin-length hair back as it used to be, but the association with the way things were was too great and so he left it down. He pushed a bit behind his ears before grabbing his cane and stepping out of his room. He glanced at the Head Girl's door before he slowly made his way toward the Great Hall. The extent of his original injuries was far greater than he knew anyone suspected. His leg had been completely shattered, with severe burns licking his back. He would have been dead had Harry not saved him. Yes. He would remember that this year. McGonagall was appointed Headmistress of the school and had personally requested Malfoy's return under the pretense that he still deserved a proper education. She, like her predecessor, knew more about the students than anyone really suspected. It was not as though Draco had chosen to be what he was.

He met a few hateful glares as he walked the halls toward the Great Hall. He simply did what he did best—ignored them. The scars that laced his body weren't what they wanted to see. They wanted to see the eyes of a killer. What did they know? They knew nothing about him. As he seethed in his bitter thoughts he felt a pair of snake-like appendages grip his waist. He wanted to wriggle away, but he knew he would not be victorious. "Hello, Pansy," his drawl was still evident.

"Oh, Draco! I'm so happy you're okay!" she embraced him again. For a moment, simply a moment, he wished Harry had dropped him.

"Yes, yes…it's good to see you again also, Pansy. Now if you'll please," he motioned to his cane and she quickly removed her hands from their death grip on his mid-section. "I'll see you in the Great Hall," he said quickly, before she could get any other ideas about trying to make him feel better.

"I'll save you a seat!" she called as she scurried off. Draco let out a relived sigh as he leaned against the wall.

"Pansy harassing you again?" a familiar voice called. Its tone was gentle, lacking its usual brashness.  
"Not at all, Granger. I was greatly enjoying the excessive shrill pitch," he turned to her with softened eyes. She had been the only person who had seen him as she had returned early to aid the Headmistress in planning the new years' festivities. They were planning a commemorative ceremony for those lost that dreaded night.

"Well, if that's the case, perhaps I should call her back? Oh Pan--" she could not finish her sentence before the pale, spider-like fingers of Draco Malfoy covered her mouth.

"Granger, what on earth do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

"Exactly. Be nice, for a change, Draco. Stop being so bloody bitter," she sighed and pulled his hand away from her face, suddenly looking to him as if she were a wounded dog. "I'm sorry, I didn't-" she was silenced by the hand again, this time a smile creeping on her face.

"You're talking too much," Draco couldn't contain the smirk as he slowly removed his hand. No doubt she would begin berating him again, but he could not suffocate her. He took a moment to truly gaze upon her. He was pleasantly surprised at how pretty Hermione looked. Her face held a few faint scars; no doubt reminders of the year's past events. Her chestnut mane was no longer as unruly. It sat a few inches past her lean shoulders with gentle waves running through until the ends. She had pushed her hair behind her ears before walking up to him, but now a few strands fell delicately in her face, drawing Draco's eyes down the curve of her delicate jaw line. He quickly redirected his eyes to meet hers, not wanting to invoke emotions he tried so desperately to suppress. When he looked closely, he saw a tinge of sadness that rested deep in her chocolate eyes. A sadness that aged her in a way none should be aged; an aging caused by great loss. Draco knew all too well the effect death had on a person's soul, but the death he witnessed was that of his own humanity. The death of who he truly was. How difficult it was to resurrect something so far gone.

"_You will tell us where it is!" Lucius's voice barely rose above a whisper until Draco shook his head in protest.. "Where have you put it!?" his screams reverberated through the young Malfoy's body as he was reduced to cowering in his corner, fearing his father's cane one more. As the blow came, Draco felt the steady trickle of warmth dripping down his cherub-esque face. His eyes, pale silver, reflected the hatred that radiated from his father. "You cannot protect them, Draco! You have obligations! You must carry out your orders! WHERE IS IT?!"_

"What do you think, Draco?"

He had not realized she had begun speaking to him. He was too far lost in the perpetration of ill thoughts his mind, plaguing the very essence of who he was trying to be. How different would things have been had he done as he was instructed? Would there have been less death? Of course he knew the true outcome would have been the same, but his responsibility did not ease the palpitations deep within his chest. He looked to Hermione as though lost in a daze. Her eyes, those very eyes that evoked such sadness, looked on with matriarchal curiosity. Honestly, he wanted to slap the look clear from her face. He couldn't stand another set of overbearing, pseudo-caring eyes drilling into his mind. Obviously his expression reflected that and she looked away immediately.

"Draco, listen. We really need-" he cut her short, something he had grown quite fond of, by simply holding his hand up.

"Granger, please. What is this 'we' business?" there he was, back to his old ways. He looked to the wall, a weight on his chest that made him light headed. "I…apologize. What were you saying?"

Hermione had placed her hands defensively on her hips and already had her lips ready to speak in protest of his lack of proper manners, but she stopped herself as he apologized. She saw, for a second, the true person behind the facade that was Draco Malfoy. The solemn expression on his face eased her anger as she rested a lightly scarred hand loosely on his shoulder. She reminded herself endlessly that he had come to school early simply to escape. She recalled McGonagall's hushed words as she quickly lead a frightfully confused Hermione to the infirmary. Upon seeing the tattered body of Draco, Hermione felt a certain pull deep in her heart. She had not seen him since the war and had secretly desired their next encounter to be one of pleasant nature. Hermione was instructed to maintain confidence as the Headmistress recalled the story to her before the Medi-Nurse entered the room. Hermione had felt the unstoppable tears form in her eyes, fighting with all of her strength to hold them back. McGonagall explained that Lucius and Narcissa had fled capture from Azkaban, taking their only son with them. When Draco, again in direct defiance, told them he would be turning them in the first chance he got, they had tortured him. Wounds he had suffered during the war were reopened by force and use of medieval vices that had been stored deep within the Malfoy's vault. The young man was unconscious and entirely unaware of their presence. He also knew nothing of the capture and conviction of his parents not only for the atrocities committed during their time under the Dark Lord, but also for the suspected murder of their only son, who was no where to be found. The Ministry scrambled to find the whereabouts of the recently turned nineteen year old Malfoy, but returned empty handed. Not even the Professors had disclosed the boy in his safe haven for they knew followers of the Dark Lord still walked as free men. No doubt the Death Eaters would attempt to surface a new king, but not without sacrificing one they called traitor. With the knowledge presented by the Headmistress, Hermione found it increasingly more difficult to look at Malfoy in anger. After all, hadn't he suffered enough?

"I take it you heard nothing I was saying, did you Malfoy?" she sighed. "Professor McGonagall would like us to plan a Halloween Ball for the students this year. She wants some celebration in lieu of the past events. The celebration, of course, would be followed by a commemoration of the fallen heroes that will mark the beginning of the construction of the memorial that we will oversee. Come May," she watched his face drop as she spoke. Clearing her throat delicately, she continued. "Come May we shall hold the unveiling of the memorial and the celebration of their lives."

Draco could do nothing but nod. Why on earth would McGonagall have him oversee something he felt insanely responsible for? "I don't understand-"

It was Harry who cut him off this time. The dark-haired wizard had seemed to appear out of nowhere, causing Malfoy to jump almost out of his skin. "Because she knows what you really did, that's why," he nodded to his former arch-nemesis before being bombarded by an overtly excited Hermione.

"Oh Harry! I've been worried sick about you! Why haven't you written?"

Draco lowered his head as he silently slipped from their view, limping his way towards the Great Hall and taking his seat at his table on the Slytherin side. He stared at the brightly coloured banners hanging from the rafters, all new since the originals were destroyed during the battle that had taken place. He noted the burn marks in the wood, some labeled with names of the Fallen as the last place they stood. He cringed as he looked to his table, tears swelling in his eyes. So many had fallen. He never hated the Weasley's as much as everyone thought, he really hadn't, which is why the name before him caused the contents of his stomach to swell in his throat. "If I could have stopped it, I would have," he whispered to the table before placing his head on top and falling into a spell of tears.


	2. Have Mercy on Me

Disclaimer: Still don't own Harry Potter. I've been working on it though. -giggles-

Comments: Wiki the short-eared owl. He's really cute. To those who have reviewed, thank you!!!

ooo

**Escape**

Chapter Two: Have Mercy on Me

"_You've failed us all, Draco. You have condemned your family to suffer at the fate of the Dark Lord because you could not accomplish one simple task!"_

The storm that raked the tree braches against Draco's window woke him from a nightmarish sleep. Screams echoed in his ears, lashing at his emotions like a whip to bare flesh. The sting was equally as painful as he rose himself into a seated position and gazed at the perpetrator. Lightning danced across the sky; illuminating the view of the blasted tree in such a manner that Draco swore he saw the Dark Lord's snake slithering along the deadened branches. The trick of the mind sent him weakly scampering to the other side of his room, fear gripping his chest. Logic was not an option for him as he reached for his wand from the bedside table and illuminated the room. Once satisfied that he was entirely alone, Draco relaxed his nerves and slowly limped his way toward the window. He found himself lost in the flickering night sky, his subconscious seeking out the Astronomy Tower. He whispered a silent apology to the air as he closed the curtains, insisting to himself that Nagini was dead and had taken Severus Snape with her. Despite what everyone thought of the man, he was a truly ingenious person with a large heart that had been trampled one too many times. He had taken a parental role with Draco, insisting his studies were higher than his peers. Draco had concluded that he knew all along the task he would be presented, which is why his professor tried to ensure his readiness. In all truthfulness, Draco missed the miserable man more than he missed his overbearing parents.

"_Si vis pacem, para bellum, Draco," his Head of House spoke quietly. Snape should have known Draco could not carry through with the Dark Lord's plans. He should have known that he would not have the courage, despite it being the wishes of the Headmaster. "If you want peace, prepare for war. This must happen. I will not force you to carry through with the Dark Lord's wishes, but you must get away. You must disappear from the pages of history once this is done. Do not return to your parents. You must…you must find another place," the sadness in the man's eyes caused Draco's stomach to flip. He was not used to emotion from this man who had been his protector for so many years. _

"_But Severus…" _

"_You know what must be done. You…you have been like a son to me. Stay in the cottage. It will keep you safe while it can."_

Draco did not wake again until mid-morning, the events of the early morning hours no longer fresh in his mind. He rose to his feet, grabbing his cane for support, and made his way from his quarters in nothing more than his dark emerald green silk pajama bottoms and with a towel thrown over his shoulder. He was thankful for the weekend and the first Hogsmeade trip since before the war. There were few students staying behind and he knew none of them would be venturing anywhere near him as most of them were first years in the other houses. He assumed Hermione had left with her friends, as she always did, so he didn't bother bringing a change of clothes with him as usual. He opened the door to the Head's bathroom and was greeted with a shrill noise that resembled something of a scream. He quickly closed the door and leaned against the wall trying to regain his breath. "GRANGER!" he growled. "You sounded like Myrtle!"

A very damp, and very aggravated, Hermione greeted him with a ferocious scowl on her face. "What happened to having enough courtesy to knock, Malfoy?" she growled, holding her towel against her body.

"I assumed you had already gone with your friends on the trip, Granger," he returned.

"Well you assumed wrong. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to finish my bath without knowing you're standing outside the door."

"Why, does my presence still bother you so much that you can't stand me being ten feet from you?" he narrowed his eyes, a particular glower returning to his face.

"No! I just…" she caught a gleam in his eye and would have hit him if her towel had been securely in place. "DRACO!"

He couldn't help but laugh. "You thought it, Granger. I didn't say anything. Hidden desires, perhaps?" his laugh did not subside as he turned, but not without throwing his towel to her. "Put that in there for me so I don't have to carry it back and forth, will you?" he smirked as he continued back to his room, feeling her eyes burning their way through him.

She watched the scarred back of her former nemesis hobble away, his platinum hair bouncing a bit with every step. He was truly the bouncing ferret now. She bit her tongue to keep from laughing, despite the cruelty of the joke, as she closed the bathroom door and went to hang his towel on the bar. She caught the lingering of his scent on the soft terry, probably an expensive Egyptian cotton, towel and sighed. He did smell quite good if the towel gave any insight on its owner. She shook her head violently as though trying to rid her brain of the ill thoughts that had crept forward. She slid into the lavender and hyacinth scented bubbles slowly, wondering just what it would be like to be held by him. She was insanely jealous of Pansy every time she saw the two of them together; jealous enough to possibly hex the girl into the next century. Of course she knew she was obligated to loathe him because of who he was, but Hermione had always seen something different lurking in the silver pools that were Draco's eyes. There was pain lingering in their luminescence…a pain Hermione could feel every time his hardened eyes fell upon her in the Great Hall. She doubted he knew that she had caught him more than once looking towards the Gryffindor table with a sense of…longing? She was not certain what the look was for, but most certainly it was not for her.

She savoured the aromas in the bathroom for a few moments longer before deciding it was proper to give him time. She wrapped her already dampened towel around herself again, shivering at the chill that ran up her spine as she opened the door. "Draco?" she called. She removed herself entirely from the doorframe and walked back towards their quarters, knocking lightly on his door. "Malfoy, it's all yours," she said, removing much of the sweetness from her tone. She had been falling in line with everyone else. She was not going to baby him any longer. He was, after all, still Draco Malfoy. "DRACO!"

As he opened his door, Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. He leaned in the doorframe, his hair falling carefully into his face. His chest, though scarred, was lean and well defined. He was a bit thin, she presumed it was due to his inability to eat, but he still had enough mass that he did not look deathly. The devilish smirk on his face caused her to blush. He had caught her staring. "Yes, Hermione?" he replied, obviously shifting his weight from his bad leg.

"Um…yes, you can have the bath now," she looked to her feet, water dripping from the ends of her hair onto the carpet. Without another glance upward, she hurried into her room and shut the door with such great force it caused the wall to shake.

Draco blinked at the wet spot on the floor where the Head Girl stood but seconds ago and sighed. He grabbed his cane and made his way back into the bathroom, the intoxicating scent of lavender and hyacinth invading his nostrils. He found himself closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, only to be greeted by memories of holidays past with his parents. He opened his eyes with a start, uncertain how the memories came to fruition, but he decided against pondering further. He settled on a rich vanilla as he turned the faucets on and let the hot water fill the tub. He rested his cane along the wall and limped to the bath, lowering himself in slowly. Part of him remembered he had a difficult time getting out due to the depth, but he knew he could not ask Granger for help. How embarrassing.

"_Oh Lucius! Look at him! Our baby boy! He looks so precious," Narcissa picked the boy up and held him close, kissing his ivory cheeks repeatedly before setting him down and wiping the ruby lipstick off with her thumb. "Draco, mummy's so proud of her baby! You're such a handsome boy!"_

"_Narcissa, you should hear how ridiculous you sound. He is a child, not one of your exotic pets."_

"_But Lucius, he is three! Must we really start this now?"_

"_He must not be babied, Narcissa. You will be…removed from the picture if this nonsense continues!"_

Hermione had noticed the bathroom door was still tightly shut as she exited her room. He had been in there for over an hour. Reluctantly, she rapped her knuckles on the door. "Draco, are you all right?" When he did not respond, her knocking became pounding. "Draco?" The racing of her heart caused her to open the door and enter, only to find a sleeping Draco with his head resting on the edge of the pool. "MALFOY!" she hollered, her voice echoing off the walls. He jumped, splashing her with a great deal of water before turning to her. Hatred was brewing in his eyes as his lips were drawn taunt.

"What are you doing in here, Granger?! Who let you in?" he was equally embarrassed and offended that she felt the need to barge in to check up on him.

"I let myself in and what are you doing falling asleep in there? You could have drowned!"

"But I didn't."

"That's beside the point!" her voice was shrill, it started to hurt his ears. She walked over to the bar on which she hung his towel and snatched it up, walking over to him and holding it out. "Get out of the tub, Malfoy, before I have to go in there after you!" Colour invaded Hermione's cheeks as she put forth a valiant effort to remain stern.

"_That's not much of a threat, Granger."_ Malfoy shook his head before grabbing the towel. He raised his eyebrows as he stared at her. "Are you leaving or shall I get up with you standing in here? Honestly, Granger, I didn't think you were so desperate to see me naked."

Steaming, Hermione turned and removed herself from the situation, but not before hearing the pathetic calling of her name. She turned her head and saw he was still in the water. "What is it, Malfoy?"

"I need my cane," his confession was hushed as he looked to her with shimmering eyes. "Please."

"Well then," Hermione cleared her throat. "Because you asked so nicely," she rolled her eyes, the sarcasm evident as she walked over to the resting place of the fine cherry wood walking cane. Unlike his father's, Draco's had no ornate decorations and most likely didn't serve as a sheath for his wand. She stepped over to the water and rested the cane beside Draco's hand, avoiding meeting his eyes. As quickly as she had entered, she vanished into the hallway.

"Thank you," he called after. Hermione felt her heart skip a beat. Had he just thanked her for something? Hermione returned to her room and leaned against the door after she had closed it, trying to regain the sanity she was certain she had lost.

She collected herself and went to her desk, grabbing her quill and a piece of parchment and began scribbling a note. A clicking caught her attention as she looked up to her tawny short-eared owl begging for food. She grabbed a treat from within her desk and offered it to him with an apologetic sigh. "Honestly, Rei, that boy is going to be the ultimate emotional death of me." The owl hooted in response and she laughed, smiling brightly at the bird. "I know, I've gotten myself into a mess, haven't I?" The golden eyes of the bird seemed to mock her as she went back to her letter. What had she gotten herself into?


	3. By the Light of the Moon

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter still.

Comments: I know I should resort to using Author's Note, but I like being different. A.M.F. is me, so I have every right to use the quote. So meh. The hot cocoa bit...a direct influence by Brittasia. To the reviewers and those who have added me to their favourite story lists, many thanks! I hope you enjoy!

**Escape**

Chapter Three: By the Light of the Moon

"The howl of the creature caused my spine to split and seep the blessed gift of life and there he stood, the child of my creation, the wolf of man." –A.M.F.

_The savage howling chilled the bones of those who walked alone on the broken stone steps. The meeting place was dark, the robes blocking the eyes of the young man as he stumbled behind the figure of his father. It wasn't until they stopped he realized they were in a cemetery. There were hushed whispers from every corner; groups of Death Eaters chatting all at once. Anticipation revived the area of its death. Draco stood, silver eyes darkening to liquid mercury as he watched the cloaked figures nervously move around in the confinements of the heavy cloth. The Dark Lord's appearance was met with a harsh silence. Those who dared utter a sound were immediately removed from the world. Draco's heart was pounding so loud that the ringing in his ears was silenced. The rhythm seemed to match the pattern in which the Dark Lord spoke; quick and harsh. Soon, it all was silenced. His name had been called. He looked around at the other cloaked figures, praying there was another Draco in the bunch. When luck seemed not to be with him, he stepped forth, the serious eyes of Severus Snape watching his every move carefully. _

"_You will do as I have instructed," the Dark Lord concluded, slithering about him as he surveyed his choice. "If you fail me," with that, the Dark Lord laughed and immediately his Death Eater's joined. Their laughter was soon silenced by the threatening gaze of snake eyes. "You will not fail." _

_Draco recalled nodding to the Dark Lord, as he knew his words would surly fail him if he dared open his mouth. After his dismissal, Draco stepped back to his father's side, catching the glimmer of sadness in the eyes of his mentor. His father's eyes, cold as steel, met him with disgust as he turned back to the Dark Lord. _

"_Fenrir Greyback will join us with his pack at the edge of the town. He will serve as a distraction as we move towards our ultimate goal for this attack. Isn't that right, Malfoy?"_

Draco felt the weight of his covers smothering him. He threw them off with clammy hands as he sat up and staggered to his dresser. His skin was sickly pale and his eyes as dull as death. He grabbed a towel and his cane and proceeded out into the Common Room before starting towards the bathroom. He stopped and looked into the darkness with a heavy heart. He knew Hermione was right before, he could drown if he fell asleep in there again. Did it really matter? He smacked himself in the head for his own stupidity as he flicked his wand toward the fireplace. As the soothing crackling of the burning wood waged its war, he sat on the plush couch. Rolling his towel and setting it under his head, he lay on the furniture and watched the flames as they danced. He knew their power was great, having felt their kiss not more than a year before. He watched the colours as they changed and wondered what it would have been like to die in that fire. He had heard Crabbe's screams as the flames he started claimed his life, but he felt no sadness for the buffoon. It was, after all, entirely his fault. But Draco had known not to form attachments with people as they were all too easily taken away. He heard the soft click of a lock as Hermione must have peeked out of her door to see what was going on. She knew she'd have her wand in hand and a stern look on her face if she were to step around the couch to see him sitting there like a lump. When her face did not appear before him, a strange sadness washed over him. It was not one associated with loss, nor pain, but simply disappointment. He had hoped she would begin scolding him as she always did for being a git. "Granger?" he asked his voice cracking mid-name. "Granger, are you still standing there?" When she did not respond, he settled on the couch once more. The ticking of the mantle clock reminded him that he was truly alone. Normally, Hermione silenced the clock if they were reading or reviewing notes together. He let it be despite the depressing thought that the clock simply announced the seconds of his life that were never to be seen again. Oh, he was quite used to losing a great deal of his life to obnoxious sounds. Take the Dark Lord's excessive chatter for example. For a man of great power, he honestly never stopped. Draco cracked a bit of a smile, shaking his head slowly against the terry. The Dark Mark was still visible on his arms under harsh lighting, but for the most part it had died with its maker. A small band of Death Eaters had found a way to salvage enough energy to save the mark from its ultimate destruction. And so it remained, a faint reminder of the life he was forced to lead. He knew his father would be begging for the mark to return to its full strength, its full glory. As the image of his father became visible in his mind, Draco found himself growing dark. He felt his fists ball as his lips pursed together. His _father_ was dead to him. If he really looked back on his childhood, he never really had parents. Certainly there were the people responsible for bringing him into this world, but he was raised by various nannies for as long as he could remember. It wasn't until he was nine or so that his father began introducing him to his friends and fellow Death Eaters. At the time, Draco thought they were good. He recalled his naiveté with a grimace. How he ever thought those people were doing the right thing, he'll never know.

"_The time is fast approaching, Lucius," a monstrous voice ricocheted from the white marble walls and blonde wood floors as the men met in the sitting room. Their words were normally hushed, but this man seemed to lack the skill the others had. Draco stood gripping the banister of the lavish staircase, staring in awe at the cloaked men as they whispered._

"_How long?" his father replied, blind to his son's presence. _

"_We're not certain, but we will not have to wait much longer. He grows stronger, but not yet strong enough. We are working diligently."_

"_You must work faster. This cannot fall through!" Lucius slammed the snake-topped cane on the floor with a heavy crack causing Draco to jump and stumble down the stairs_

_He felt the eyes fall on him as he lay at the bottom of the stairs, to ashamed to show his face to his father. He prepared himself for what was to come, but was all too surprised as he felt gentle hands pick him up and stroke his hair. "There, there, Draco. It's all right. You may sit with us," he feared the sugary sweetness in his father's voice. He knew he was not getting away with this so easily. "This is Draco. He will be joining us for the rest of this discussion, gentlemen. He has already begun his training. When the time is right, he will join our ranks."_

He heard a different type of clicking as he woke from a deep slumber. He stretched his arms with a hefty yawn as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. As he sat up he found the second source of clicking sitting across from him with her arms crossed over her chest, bearing a scowl that made Draco swear he was looking at the Headmistress. She tapped her foot against the tabletop, her pace faster than that of the clock. Draco looked to her, too tired to argue with the look, but awake enough to be thoroughly confused by it. "Good morning?"

"Why were you sleeping out here, Draco?"

He felt as though he was being reprimanded for eating the last of some sacred sweet. "I fell asleep?" he raised his brows to express his confusion.

"You have a room, have you not?"

Was that a trick question? "Yes…"

"Then get in it and stop nearly setting the Common Room on fire!" her face was radiating angry heat as she stopped tapping her foot and uncrossed her arms. He looked to the immaculate mantle and raised his brows further in a comedic expression. "I already cleaned up. Honestly, are you deaf in your sleep? Could you not hear the portraits screaming?"

Draco didn't dignify her questions with a response. He grabbed his cane and stiffly rose from the couch and went back to his room, mumbling his password, and abruptly shutting the door behind him.

"Draco!" he heard her desperately cry out.

"Yes, actually, when I haven't slept well in almost a year…oh, save for when I was unconscious, that is," he mumbled as he crawled into his bed and gripped a pillow close to his chest. He would never understand the role Hermione had chosen to take with him. It was somewhere between mother and best friend and it was truly proven to be difficult to differentiate at times. His mouth had fallen into a pout as he pulled the pillow as close as he could to his body. Had he really been so asleep that he did not hear the portraits calling or was his so lost in a dream that he assumed it was from that? His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, which he chose to ignore.

"Draco!"

Ignoring. Yes, he was ignoring her. He would sing to himself if he had to, just so she would go away.

"Open the door!"

'_No. I will not let you in, Granger. Never in a million—wait…why are you getting up? Stop getting up! No! Draco Malfoy don't you dare open that—_' Draco opened the door and stared at her. "Here to tell me how much of an imbecile I am or have you had enough of pointing out my flaws today, Granger?"

"No! That's not what I was going to say, Malfoy, so stop putting words in my mouth!"

It amused him to see her so upset over something so trivial.

"I'm reminding you that we have class today in a few hours and am asking you if you would like some breakfast?"

This was not the Granger he knew. "Who are you? How did you make Polyjuice potion under this roof when there are methods of detecting it all over the place?"

"Honestly, Malfoy," she rested a hand on her hip and looked over how frail his appearance had become almost overnight. "Would you?"

"I'm not really—" he was caught short by two fingers set over his lips.

"Perfect! Then I will be back up here in a bit less than an hour. Don't fall asleep and don't drown yourself in the tub!" With that, she scurried off, most likely towards the Kitchens, with an unusual bounce in her step. Malfoy watched intently as she moved onward, a smile threatening to break his appearance. He let out a yawn as he went back into the Common Room to gather his towel before going to the bathroom to make himself presentable. Curse having personal standards of appearance.

Hermione had gathered all she needed from the Elves before returning to their common room. As she had suspected, he was in the bathroom, probably passed out and in an awkward position that could lead to her having to save him again. She set up a few pastries and two mugs of hot cocoa before wrapping on the door with her wand. "Draco? You all right?" A sudden presence behind her made her shriek and jump clear out of her skin, her wand quickly being pressed against the possible attacker's throat. When she heard the clunk of the cane as it hit the ground, she lowered her wand and looked apologetically into the eyes of Draco. "I thought you…"  
"You thought I was going to drown, didn't you?" he sneered as he turned to the table. His features softened again, a response she was gradually invoking with her niceties. "You…did that for me?"

"You need to eat. You look as though you are going to fall over dead any minute now. None of us want that."

"But hot cocoa?"

"I wanted it."

"Ah. Thanks for your consideration, Granger."

Hermione shrugged and sat cross-legged on the floor and gripped her cup carefully. "Anytime."

"You know you can sit on the couch…I don't bite."

"No, but you drool."

Her statement marked the cessation of their conversation as he took a bite of a blueberry scone and stared at a mark on the wall. He did not drool. He glanced at the couch and grumbled. His desire to slap himself in the forehead was so great that he had to hold his mug of cocoa to keep from doing it. _'Way to go, Malfoy, you've proven to be almost human.'_


	4. I Never Claimed to be Immortal

Disclaimer: No ownage of Harry Potter yet. Yay for JK Rowling writing a new book! We will always love her for Harry Potter!

Comments: No flashback sequences in this one. If you like them, I'll put in the ones I was writing. Just submit a review and let me know!

**Escape**

Chapter Four: I Never Claimed to be Immortal

Hermione watched Draco from a distance as he sat on the bleachers of the Quidditch field. She watched his expression as it changed from anger to sadness and it made her want to run down there and hug him. She wanted to hug him and never let go. She felt the sadness pouring from his every pore as she walked down to the field, hugging her robes tightly against her skin. "Draco!" she called above the howling winds. "Draco, come on! We have class in fifteen minutes!" He did not respond. He didn't even look at her. "Draco, I know you can hear me!" He finally turned and looked down at her, giving her nothing more than a gesture to join him. "But…we have class," she said only loud enough that she could hear. She fought the lashings of her hair as she hurried up the bleachers and sat beside him. "Why are you up here?"

Draco pointed to the pitches and laughed a dry, humourless laugh. "I'll never do that again, Granger. Never fly, you know that?" The expression on his face became hardened and cruel as he turned to her again. It was a look she had seen often in their early years and it frightened her. "All because of that bastard I'll never fly again."

Hermione had to resist letting out a sigh of relief. He was not looking at her in that manner. "Are you certain?" she asked as she pushed her hair behind her ears. The simple nod of his head was all Hermione needed. He had tried everything, and so had Madame Pomfrey, to mend his leg. Hermione sighed and set her hand on his leg and gave it a pat before gathering her sense and setting her hand back in her own. "We do have class, you know."

"Go on ahead. I need to talk to the Headmistress."

Hermione took note of his demeanor and furrowed her brows. "Would you like me to come with you?" Why she offered, she wasn't quite sure, but he nodded in acceptance and stood slowly. Hermione handed him his cane as she rose to join him. He still maintained a rather stoic appearance despite the obvious softening of his expression over the past few weeks. He was still Draco Malfoy, but he was not the same man they knew just a year before. He was bitter, quiet. Hermione knew he had all the right to be. In their classes he sat in the back of the room, facing the jeers of others as they gathered their supplies. He had been sent numerous howlers; a countless number of them intercepted by the Headmistress, but not all. He had received threats from unknown sources calling him a traitor; telling him he should give up trying to belong. Hermione had watched him suffer and a part of her was pleased with it. Of course she felt terrible for enjoying his suffering, but he had caused so much for her in the beginning. Now he knew what it felt like. Hermione sighed as she walked a few steps behind him. "Why do you need to speak with Professor McGonagall?" she inquired after a few minutes of silence.

"A note."

"A note?"

Draco turned to her with a sigh. "A threat, more like it. With…Fenrir still alive, I have to alert her of anything of threatening nature."

"I thought Fenrir was dead…I thought he was killed…" she looked to him with alarm flushing her cheeks.

"He was stunned. His followers carried him off. Hermione, do you think I deserve all of this?" he seemed to catch the air of hesitation because he stopped walking to turn and face her. His sudden change of subject startled Hermione to the point of stumbling over herself.

"N-n-no…I don't."

"But you've enjoyed hearing the name calling?"

She wanted to prove his accusations false, but she knew she couldn't lie to him. She knew her eyes gave away every ounce of her being. She looked to the ground before having her chin tilted up by his slender fingers. Her eyes were forced to meet his metallic orbs, as cold and uninviting as the metal they resembled.

"Hermione?"

"Yes. For a bit I did enjoy hearing you get a taste of what you dished out for so long," she felt the involuntary tears swelling in her eyes as she pulled away from his reach. "I did enjoy seeing you suffer the same way I did every time you called me Mudblood! But I know better know. And I feel awful for it! There! Are you happy?" With that, she turned and left him alone in the corridor near the Headmistress's office. Her eyes were damp, but the tears did not fall as she hurried back to her quarters. How dare he ask her that question! How dare that filthy swine as her if she enjoyed it! Of course she had until he asked! Until she saw the pain in his eyes! She collapsed onto her bed after ignoring the portrait hanging by her door. She had snapped at the poor woman, demanding entrance with a vile hiss of her password. The tears could not be restrained. She was, as always, alone in her misery.

Draco stared, entirely dumbfounded, at the spot where Hermione had stood but moments ago. So he was out of line asking her if she enjoyed it, but he needed to know. With a huff he walked back towards the Headmistresses office, knocking lightly on the door.

"Come in," came the weary voice of Professor McGonagall. For her age, she was as vivacious as ever now. She had filled the shoes of Dumbledore to her best efforts and the students were grateful for it. She was, after all, the closest thing they had to how things used to be. "Mr. Malfoy, what is it now? You look distraught," her powerful voice wavered a bit as she spoke, her age displaying its colours.

"Another letter, Professor," he commented as he drew the letter from his pocket and handed it to her. "Most likely from one of Fenrir's followers."

As the woman adjusted her spectacles to look over the letter, Draco caught the subtle twinkle in the eyes of the portrait of Professor Dumbledore. He looked to the portrait and frowned as the old man winked to him before disappearing with a start. He had known all along it would boil down the way it did. McGonagall caught the sadness in Draco's eyes and cleared her throat before addressing him. "Very well, Mr. Malfoy. I will ensure heightened nighttime security around the Head's Quarters. Have you alerted Miss Granger?"

Draco met the eyes of a portrait he had not seen in the Headmaster's office before. The portrait seemed to scowl and glower before smiling and nodding his head as though congratulating Draco. "Since when is Snape here?"

"He was a Headmaster, though briefly, was he not Mr. Malfoy? As for avoiding answering questions, I suggest you not."

"I have informed her of the letter and who may be responsible, yes."

"You and Miss Granger are getting along well I hope?" she looked to him over her spectacles, narrow lips pursed in questioning. She should have known to answer to that.

"As well as we can, yes, Professor," Draco replied rather sullenly.

"I do hope you can tell her what has been occurring of late, Mr. Malfoy. I will alert the others of Greyback's threat. Continue on. I'm certain you have a few rolls of parchment due in Potions." With a wave of her hand he was dismissed.

Rather than heading back to his room as he was subtly instructed to do, Draco headed outside the front doors and onto the grounds. As he walked, he felt a familiar chill run up his spine, a chill that reminded him all too much of the war. With that thought stewing, he continued his journey until he found Dumbledore's memorial, where he sat and rested his head in his hands. It was dangerous for him to be outside alone and he knew that, but at that moment he felt safe. "Professor," he felt quite silly, honestly, to be talking to a dead man's grave. "To this day I still wish things had turned out differently. No one ever knew, did they? And you made sure of it. Rita Skeeter still has her blasted articles popping up everywhere, you know, about a secret affair of yours. Quite bonkers if you ask me. What's happened to me? Here I used to be so bloody noble, so blasted stubborn, and now I'm sitting outside talking to a casket. Merlin," as Draco rose, the chill settled in his chest. The air had seemed to come to a nerve-racking halt as the sun hid its face from the world. As the moon rose, Draco pulled his robes tightly around his body, struggling to gather his cane to begin towards the castle once again. He could not believe time had passed so quickly. He thought just moments before Hermione was telling him they had classes. He was, for the millionth time in the day, entirely confused.

The clickings and hootings of the animals in the Forbidden Forest continued their caterwauling; deafening screeches seemed to overpower the gentle noises one could normally hear. They did nothing to ease the dread chilling Draco's soul. The chill reminded Draco of the Dementors as they circled the one they were to kiss. He felt more than uneasy now. He was lightheaded; a dizzy spin replacing the clarity in his mind. There were no Dementors here, he had to remind himself. The feelings, he felt, were simply caused by his overactive imagination until his eyes rested on the glowing orb creeping high across the night sky. Draco's unease converted to panic as he ran, pain firing through his leg, toward the castle. He could almost feel the breath of the wolves on his neck as he ran. He ran until he hit the door with a loud thud and began banging on it as though his life depended on it. His poundings, he knew, echoed into the Great Hall because, when the Headmistress opened the door her face had become ghastly white. She quickly ushered the terrified boy into the warmth and shut the door just as he collapsed to the ground.

"Mr. Malfoy! What on earth were you doing outside on a night such as this!?" she hissed as she helped him to his feet. She quickly escorted him away from the prying eyes of the others into Madame Pomfrey's care. "Especially in light of the recent letter, how could you go outside unaccompanied? Honestly, Draco, are you trying to have yourself killed?"

He had never seen concern in her eyes save for when it dealt with Potter and his bunch. Draco felt relieved that she cared as much as she did. "No…I wasn't thinking."

"Quite right you weren't! I should have fifty points deducted from Slytherin for your negligence. As of now, warm yourself up. I'll have Miss Granger bring you some supper," the concerned sigh followed McGonagall as she exited the room, her robes flapping behind her.

Madame Pomfrey simply shook her head at the young wizard, forcing him to take some potion before she examined his leg. With a disapproving click of her tongue, the witch began digging through random flasks and vials of potions and other unidentifiable liquids. "I don't know why none of these have worked," she muttered to herself as she looked up at Draco with a sigh. "Is your leg feeling any better?"

"Quite worse now that I've been running, actually," he replied, sarcasm oozing from every syllable.

"Perhaps you shouldn't have run, then," the nurse replied with the same tone. "I'll continue looking, as for now, go up to your room and get some rest."

With a guttural grunt Draco rose to his feet, his legs feeling like rubber beneath him. Rather than showing his weakness, he adjusted his tie and strode out of the room, relying on his cane only when out of her sight. He limped up the stairs, pausing after four or five steps to massage his knee. He realized then that he had lost the majority of the feeling in his crippled leg. The aggravation built as he continued staggering upstairs. He leaned against the door of the common room before sliding to the side of the wall and opening the door. He slid along the wall until he was near his bedroom, sliding to the floor as he flicked his wand to light the fireplace. He held his head in his hands for a moment before he heard the door to the common room slide open.

"Draco, honestly, must you be so dramatic?" Hermione rolled her eyes as she set the plate of food on the table. "Get up and eat something before the potions you were given make you ill."

She opened her common room door without passing a glance in his direction and entered. Draco took his cane and knocked on her door. "Hermione..."

"Draco, I don't care."

"I didn't mean it the way you took it, Hermione!"

"Then how did you mean it?" when she opened her door, her hair was up in a bun on the top of her head. A few tendrils fell along her jaw, gracing her neck. She had already changed into a burgundy tank top, obviously preparing to do something.

"I was asking because that's what people have said…and I wanted to know how you really felt. If it was the same. If that was how you felt the entire time. Hermione, I'm sorry."

"You can't expect me to accept your apology every time you mess up, Draco, you know that?" her hands were on her hips, her brows together.

"I understand. Can you help me up? I can't feel my leg."

"You what?" Hermione's eyes seemed to soften as she stepped out from her room. She was wearing shorts in addition to the tank top, which made Draco nearly swallow his tongue.

"I can't feel my leg. I…was running."

"YOU WHAT!? Draco! You know you—"

"Hermione, please spare me," he looked up at her with a frown. "I really…"

Before he could fully form his words, her hands were linked with his arms and she was pulling him up to his feet. "C'mon, Draco, stop being so proud and just lean on he until I get you to the couch."

He let some of his weight rest on her as they walked over to the couch and sat together. "Do you really think I'm too proud?"

"Snobbish git sometimes, yeah," she looked to him and smiled a bit. "You need to eat something. Maybe it'll help."

As Draco ate in silence, he watched her picking at her nails. She was chewing on the insides of her cheeks, her face twisting as her mouth bowed in a heart shape. He smirked, swallowing the bit of food in his mouth before looking at her state of undress. "You look outstanding."

"Funny, Malfoy. Eat."

"I'm serious!"

"And I'm the Headmistress."

"You have your moments," he perked his eyebrows before going back to his plate. She sat steaming before she jabbed at his side with her fingers. "Ow! What's that for?"

A smile spread across her face as she rose almost seductively, her hips shaking a bit more than normal. She shrugged. "Felt like it," her smile faded to a smirk not unlike his as she went to the bathroom and shut the door, leaving Draco to eat alone with nothing more than the ticking to keep him company.


	5. Fog Machine Not Included

Disclaimer: Do I have to? I still don't own it. World domination, phase one...still incomplete. Sigh.

A/N: Curse conformity! This chapter needs reviews. I may edit pending what you all think. Let me know! Clicky the little "Submit Review" drop down and the little arrows! Please? Ooh...again, no flashbacks. Sorry. Feedback! -smiles-

**Escape**

Chapter Five: Fog Machine Not Included

"'Mione!" Ron came bounding up the stairs after her, his cheeks cherry red. "I don't have a costume!" The distress on his face caused Hermione to choke on her own saliva as it traveled down the wrong pipe. After her coughing fit subsided, she was reduced to a fit of laughter. "I'm serious! Is there a theme? I can't find my invitation! 'Mione!"

"Ron! Calm down! Just wear your dress robes from fourth year," she teased. As his face fell, she realized her error and placed her hand on his arm. "Oh Ronald! You know I'm kidding!" As Ron pulled his arm from her, his face truly filled with hurt, her smile faded. "Ron…"

"''Ere I come to you for help and all you do is tease me. Nice, 'Mione. Thanks," his cheeks seemed to puff out as he turned from her and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Ron, you cannot be serious. You know what your dress robes looked like! Put on a mask and make it a period costume!"

"A what?"

"Period…costume. Oh forget it. Just wear them and a mask and you'll have a costume," with a grumble she proceeded back up the stairs towards her room.

"Fine! Don't help me!"

Hermione waved to him over her shoulder, which earned her a snort. "If he opened a book or talked to Nick maybe he would have known that," she murmured with a snicker as the common room door opened for her.

"What are you mumbling about?"

"Ron. He doesn't have a costume."

"And he wants you to get him one?" Draco worked on opening a chocolate frog with his teeth as he leaned against the wall, bare-chested.

"No, he wanted me to tell him what to be. So I told him to wear his dress robes and a mask."

"You're beginning to pick up my more attractive habits, Granger," he smirked as he held the frog in place, taking a quick glance at his card before tossing it aside.

"You _are_ picking that up_, aren't you_?" she asked, her first-year over-exaggerated tone even making her scowl a bit. "Merlin, is that always how I talked?"

"And obviously how you still do," Draco sneered as he bent over to pick up the card he had flicked aside. "What are you going as?" As Draco stood, he realized Hermione had already vanished again. Where, he wasn't certain, but a soft knock on the Common Room door put him on guard. He readied his wand, leaning carefully on his cane for support. He mustered up a tone reflecting strength as he replied to the knocking, "Who is it?"

"It's…me…Harry. I need to speak with Hermione."

Draco rolled his eyes. Regardless of being saved by the wonder boy, he was not fond of Harry's self-righteous tone. "Hermione, Potter is here," he called as he opened the door with a grumble as he moved towards the sitting area, taking a seat close to the fire place. Harry entered cautiously. Draco could see that he had his hand on his wand just in case. The gesture earned an exaggerated eye roll.

The silence was deafening. For a good five or so minutes neither boy made a sound. If people didn't know any better, one would assume they were statues sitting there with their heads held high. Animosity still loomed over their heads as they waited for Hermione to finish whatever it was that had ensnared her senses. Draco tapped the arm of the plush chocolate coloured leather chair with the tip of his wand before he relaxed into it. "Why did you do it?" his voice seemed to echo as the deafening silence was broken. Harry must have felt the same way; he reacted almost as though Draco had hit him.

"What?"

"What did you save me?"

Harry took a moment to think as he adjusted his glasses on his face, pushing his hair aside as he did. "Because I did," was all he replied as he jumped to his feet. Hermione stepped out of her room in a sparkling blue ball gown with her hair piled high on her head in an up-do. She looked to Harry with a shake of her head.

"Honestly, are you and Ron both really this hopeless?" her eyes fell on Draco, who she scowled at until he rose to his feet and went to change. "Please tell me you don't need me to get you a costume!" Draco heard her exasperated sigh through the door and knew Harry had said he needed help. He heard the click of her high heels as she forced him to sit down. Draco could almost count out the seconds between her footsteps and the knocking on his door. "Have you anything Harry could wear tonight?"

Draco blinked. Potter couldn't wear his clothes. He was too thin still. "I can look…" was all Draco could offer as he stepped from the doorframe, leaving the door cracked open. "Harry, why wait until the night of the Ball to find what you are wearing?" Draco asked as he drew out an atrocious white suite. Must have been his fathers. He thrust it out towards the other, trying to avoid curling his lip in disgust. "Here. I have no idea what you can be, but I certainly know I can't wear it."

Draco surveyed Harry as he looked to Hermione, who scowled and waved her wand, changing the colour of the suit to black. She conjured up a mask and a cape and handed it to Harry, looking wearily at Draco before quirking her brows at Harry. "Well?"

"Um…what am I going to be?"

"The Phantom," Draco replied as he tore open another chocolate frog. He wasn't going to the ball, why did he care what he consumed?

"The…wha?"

"Thank you! At least someone here has common sense! Draco, aren't you coming?"

_Oh if only I were, Granger_. "No."

He felt her glare before he spotted it creeping across her face. The silence was soon broken by Ron clamoring into the room. "Spiders! They've hung spiders from the ceiling!" he squawked. "And they are real!"

"Surprising, isn't it, Weasley?" Draco drew, leaning against the door frame.

"You know what, Malfoy…"

Hermione watched the heat rise in Ron's face and immediately flew into action, ushering both Harry and Ron out of the Heads Common Room and into the hallway. She quickly told them she would meet them in the Great Hall before shutting the door and glaring at Draco. "Honestly, must you always try to start trouble, Draco?" she issued a weary sigh before resting her hand on her forehead. "And why aren't you coming? You know you are obligated to at least make an appearance. You are, after all, Head Boy. You haven't forgotten that, have you?"

"How could I forget with you constantly fluttering behind me reminding me like an obnoxious pixie?" he replied with a venomous smile creeping across his face. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to sleep. You, Cinderella, enjoy the ball. Hope you find your Prince Charming before the spell breaks at Midnight. Wouldn't want to see you looking drab now would he?" With a curt nod he retreated fully into his quarters, shutting the door with a snap. He heard her frustrated grumblings and the slam of a door as she left him alone to his thoughts. He, of course, had to make an appearance, but he was terrified of stepping foot in the Great Hall with the entire school present. It was bad enough he overheard First years telling tales about the events that had occurred the night of Dumbledore's death. He honestly didn't want to walk in dressed in his costume. He pulled out the 50's mobster costume and examined it closely. The rolled-up sleeves were his main problem. He had promised Hermione he would show. With a drawn out, aggravated cry he readied himself for a night he felt he would regret.

Hermione sat, as she assumed, alone. Harry had run off with some girl Hermione couldn't recognize and Ron was too busy harassing his sister to pay her any mind. She should have known better than to trust Draco to come by her side for something they had worked so hard to put together. She groaned as some dance music started. The writhing bodies and the excessive laughter had begun to turn her stomach. Before she could get up to leave, the music came to a screeching halt as a man dressed in a white suit with black pinstripes. Both the black silk vest and crisp white shirt were left a tad unbuttoned; the jacket he held thrown over his shoulder. The white fedora sat crookedly atop platinum hair that had been slicked back. His cane had been temporarily traded in for a sleek silver one and clicked on the newly created dance floor as he made his way towards Hermione. The crowd parted as though they were going to be touched by the plague. Harry had turned and spotted Malfoy, making note of the reactions of the people around him. They couldn't all still blame Draco for what happened…

Harry released the girl's hand he was dancing with and walked towards the two of them. "Hey Draco," he said coolly as he went to shake the other's hand. "Glad you could make it." With that simple gesture, the crowd dispersed and the music resumed. Draco shot Harry a grateful smile as he nodded to Hermione with a wink.

"I promised."

The night went on smoothly. A few students had attempted to hex Draco, but none succeeded. He felt victorious. He was done dancing for the night, so he positioned himself at a table so he could watch as Hermione mingled. So much had changed since their First year. She no longer was as closed off as she used to be. She was still terribly stubborn and quite easily embarrassed, but both were qualities that made Draco want to be around her. Without warning, the music came to a sudden halt and the professors hurried into the rooms, yelling for students to hurry back to their rooms. A boney hand held a steady grip on Draco's arm as he was thrust to his feet and dragged into another room. Panic gripped his soul as he readied himself for a blow to the head that did not come. Instead he found himself facing the Headmistress, whose normally placid eyes were filled with anger and a glimmer of fear. Draco saw her trying to steady her words before she spoke and he almost laughed at her attempt. "I should have known this would be a bad idea," she spoke hurriedly as she walked with him towards her office. "Trying to unveil the plans for the beginning of the memorial on Halloween," she huffed, almost pushing him into the space. He felt himself falling into the chair with a thud and a grunt. "Greyback is still alive and well, as we've just found out. There were…bodies of the Centaurs found mangled. He is far too close for comfort. You, especially, Mr. Malfoy, have been placed under lockdown until we get word that it is safe and that he has fallen back. Do you understand?"

Draco looked at the woman in awe. Greyback was after him. He assumed under his father's orders. Draco scowled, nodding her with an expression not unlike sucking a lemon.

"If you are caught wandering out of the doors without permission, you will be-" she stopped, unable to find the words.

"Expelled? Honestly, Headmistress…"

"I do not recommend being lippy with me, Mr. Malfoy. You will lose one hundred points from your house and you will lose your title of Head Boy. That should be punishment enough. Now, you are to return to your room and do not let me catch you wandering the halls again! We will meet first thing in the morning to discuss the new plans for the unveiling of the construction. Mr. Potter has been kind enough to offer to escort you back to your quarters. Good night, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco peered out the door at his…friend…and smiled a bit. He could not deny the unspoken bond that had formed between the two of them. There was an understanding forming. Draco nodded as he rose to his feet and hobbled out to meet Harry. The pair walked in silence, as seemed to be customary for them, until Draco tripped over a shoe no doubt left by Peeves. Harry held back a laugh as he checked to make sure he was okay. It wasn't until Draco started laughing that Harry released it and offered his hand. "Thank Merlin."

"What? Afraid of laughing at me?" Draco quirked his brow.

"With Greyback after you and all," Harry quipped as he patted Draco's back. "Seriously, I wanted to make sure you weren't going to hex me."

"Oh, I'm far past hexes, Potter. I've settled on curses now," he sneered as they returned to the Head's Common room. "Funny how now you've got my back, isn't it?"

"You could say that. Who were you anyway?" Harry gestured to his costume.

"1950's Muggle Mobster," he replied.

"Muggle mobster?" Harry shook his head. "I never thought I would live to see the day the Draco Malfoy would admit to dressing like a muggle."

"Don't get terribly accustomed to it, Harry, he still resorts to his own ways here and then," Hermione scowled as she pushed past them and kicked off her shoes. "Can you believe what happened? Three centaurs! Three! Harry, just imagine!"

The boys entered the room and gathered around the fire Hermione had just started. She slowly began taking her hair down as she looked wearily to them. "McGonagall didn't tell you for obvious reasons. The school is on high alert. No student is to exit the castle for ANY reason at all. Quidditch has been cancelled, so has the Hogsmeade trip. Until they can find away to scare off Greyback and his followers…or at least until we figure out if they are actually after Draco and why." Hermione's hair had framed her face in such a manner that both boys cleared their throats simultaneously. "I can't imagine what they would want with you."

"Thank you, Hermione. You've really upped my self-worth," he groaned as he looked wearily to the fireplace. "I'm an easy target. Too slow to run and too boney to consume. Must have something to do with my father wanting me dead, is all."

"But how would they…"

"Remember my father. He has connections. Even in Azkaban."

With that the silence began and continued into the early hours of the morning. Harry had thrown in his two cents here and there before returning to Gryffindor Common Room before curfew. Hermione watched the expressions on Draco's face change before she leaned over and flicked his hat from his head. The action earned her a classic Malfoy scoff, but she did nothing more than laugh as she disappeared into the bathroom. With a shake of his head, Draco retired to his room. He'd rather shower in the morning than stay up all night waiting for Granger to get out of the shower.

As Draco settled under his covers, the emerald green satin kissing his bare skin delicately, reminding him that not everything was violent, he heard the howling and animalistic cries as the followers of Fenrir settled. His unease was great as he pulled the covers higher until they reached his chin. Sleep did not come easily. Draco knew it would not come for a very long while.


	6. Midnight Prophecy

Disclaimer: Like the other five chapters, I don't own Harry Potter. I do own Wormtail's stutter and Draco's silk pants, though.

A/N: One flashback and a bit of romance. Review! Please!

**Escape**

Chapter Six: Midnight Prophecy

_"Fenrir's followers are p-positioned in Hogsmeade, your Lordship," Wormtail stammered. "They will keep a c-close eye on P-Potter."_

_The Dark Lord ran his hands over the smooth, sleek scales of Nagini before issuing Wormtail a short, satisfactory nod. Voldemort gazed out of the shattered window of the run down house, something of a smile playing on his smooth reptilian face. "And Malfoy's boy?" he hissed, his snake curling around the legs of the antique chair before resting her head on his shoulder._

"_They have b-been informed t-to keep an eye on him."_

"_You, Wormtail, will be held accountable should any errors occur. I suggest you see that none do," the smile had yet to fade from the Dark Lord's face as Nagini hissed at the pathetic waste of air._

_Wormtail took his dismissal graciously, bowing his head as he backed out of the room. He scurried back to join the Werewolves, reluctantly taking his place beside Fenrir. He was even more terrified than before of failure. The gurgling of saliva and heavy panting of his companions was all he had to keep him from expressing his fears. _

_He saw the grin appear on Fenrir's face as the leader of the ferals moved to join his comrades._

Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, Flying, and a few other more obscure classes had been cancelled until the ferals were free from the Forbidden Forest. The students in those classes were assigned parchments to be returned to their professors by the end of the week so no one would fall behind. All Quidditch practices and matches were cancelled as well; the players and supporters causing a ruckus every time someone mentioned the fact. Many eyes were falling on Draco to be the blame. After so many years of Harry being the one to accuse, it was now Draco's turn to face the heat. As he made his way past the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, he heard silence. Conversations had ceased. The entire room turned to face him. He had been on lockdown for over a week since the incident had occurred. A select few, who had been hoping he had died, groaned with displeasure as Draco passed them. His cane clicked softly against the solid floor as he inched towards the Slytherin table, only to be refused his usual place by a handful of fellow Seventh Years including his own Pansy Parkinson. Not that he wanted her to be his; she just took the role upon herself. Draco pursed his lips, his brows coming together in a most unflattering position as he gestured for her to move her hand from his seat.

Pansy shook her head hard enough that, if one listened closely, they could hear the remnants of a brain rattling. "I'm sorry, Draco, but we're not risking ourselves because they want you! Go find somewhere else!"

Draco heard the weakness in her voice. Had he been in a better mood, he would have pushed her and pushed her until she was reduced to a sobbing wreck, but he hardly cared anymore. He leaned over her head, smacking the hands of those who denied him his dinner with his cane, and gathered some food before he made his way back towards the corridors. The chattering resumed once his fellow students had determined he was removing himself from their presence.

"Draco!"

The silence returned. Draco heard the shift of robes and plates as the students all turned to see who dared call his name. Draco felt his heart begin racing as a lump formed in his throat. He too began scanning the room for the source of the voice.

"Draco!"

He recognized the annoyance in the tone of the voice and turned himself fully around immediately. Why would she be so stupid…?

Hermione rose to her feet, the expression on her face brazen enough to reduce Draco to a glob of gelatin. Pineapple gelatin to be exact. She turned to face the Slytherins. Her eyes were shooting daggers and her words were venomous. "How dare you deny him anything! At least he had the courage to return to fight the war! The whole lot of you gathered your precious belongings and fled like the true cowards you are! Of all the people in this room, of EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU!" By this point, heat coloured her face. Her voice was rough and entirely unlike anything Draco had heard from her throat before. "EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU felt that you were TOO IMPORTANT to be bothered! If anyone here should be denied anything, it should be you! One hundred and fifty points from Slytherin for your behaviour! Draco, let's go!" Hermione grabbed her belongings and Draco's plate of food and hurried out of the Great Hall. A warmth filled Draco as he looked at the slack-jawed fools staring at the place where Hermione originally stood. He caught Ginny Weasley as she silently celebrated Hermione's victory before he turned and followed after the Head Girl. He too was celebrating her amazing, and flattering, victory.

ooo

The small campfire blazed deep within the Forbidden Forest. The centaurs could no longer send their messengers to the edge to warn the school of the presence of the ferals. Twigs and branches snapped like bone as the pack circled before finding a spot to rest. They had not eaten in months now, saving their hunger for the moments that were soon to come. They had saved their aggression for the one who foiled their victory. No, not Potter. His fate was still destined. Malfoy's boy was to blame for their starvation. Now they had no rules to play by, no orders to follow. There was no Lord leading the pack. There was Fenrir. They needed no one else.

The hunger was fierce; the pain invigorating. Fenrir's eyes were glowing with rabid anticipation. They would strike the next full moon. None would survive and those who did, specifically chosen by Fenrir himself, would serve under him. They would become his kind…his slaves. His laughter rattled the creatures in the trees fiercely, causing them to flee their homes in search of safety. They were not safe anywhere now that the beloved centaurs were long since made unavailable. A loud snap drew deadly eyes in its direction. A lurking growl reverberated throughout his body as he advanced on the noise. With one quick swipe with his hand he threw the culprit towards the trees. Yellowing nails were stained with blood as Fenrir inched closer. He flicked his tongue over the tips of his nails as he violently picked the man up with his free hand. "Do you know what happens to those who disobey me?"

The man, terrified of his master, shook his head repeatedly.

"You have no method of spoken word?"

The gleam was all that remained in the man's eyes. The gleam that reflected from deep within Fenrir now the last memory the wretch would have. "Fight for it!" he called as he retreated to his tent. His feast was coming slowly, but he would savor it. How could one resist such a prize? The savage growls were music to his ears as his brethren tore apart the fool who had made himself a personal feast. It would not be long until the faculty realized their allies were no more. By then, they would be ready to strike. Yes, they would be quite ready. Fenrir's clawed hands ran across the back of Firenze, gently stroking the fur of the dying creature. "You, precious, will tell them we have fled," he growled. "Come day, you will tell them. Try to tell them we are here, and you will only make matters worse. You would not be as stupid as your kin, would you?" Fenrir dug his claws deep into the tender flesh of Firenze's hind before laughing as he exited. The plan was to be reviewed before played and he was going to see that everything played out to perfection.

ooo

"Honestly, 'Mione, what the bloody hell possessed you to stick up for Malfoy!?" Ron exclaimed in a hushed tone as they walked towards the library. Hermione had agreed to help Ron with his studies before working on her own only because he asked her so pathetically.

"Honestly, Ronald, why must you be so egg-headed?"

"He's Draco Malfoy!"

"Yes, but he's not the same Draco Malfoy you despise! Can't you see that? Or are you too blinded by the fact that he and I can have intelligent conversations when you know we can't?" Hermione's anger was lingering from the day's earlier events. She was not going to settle on being interrogated for being friends with Malfoy. They were, after all, stuck sharing the same space. What life would they have if all they did was quarrel?

Ron's face dropped and twisted. "I can too have an intelligent conversation! What makes Malfoy so special? You like former Death Eaters? Always knew you were gonna betray us."

That was it; the one statement that made Hermione Granger snap and ended Ronald Weasley in Madame Pomfrey's care for three days.

ooo

"You did WHAT?" Draco peered over the back of the couch at a frazzled and insanely embarrassed Granger.

"I hexed him."

Those words were music to Draco's ears as he rose from the couch and staggered over to Hermione. Without thinking, he pulled her into a tight embrace and laughed. "It's about time you stopped listening to his rubbish and did something about it!"

Hermione blinked, peeling his arms from around her waist as she stepped to the left and walked around him towards the large chair. She sat with a heavy flop and rubbed her temples with her first finger knuckles. Draco hid behind his hair as he blushed, his gaze quickly turning towards the wall as he fought the tinge of pink from his skin. Hermione watched him carefully, surveying the scars that she could see. All of them were permanent, caused by dark magic. Every scar held a different story and every scar was a painful reminder of the life Draco had fled. Hermione looked to her own hands and arms. The faint scars that reminded her of that night would fade away completely and she would be left with the memories and nothing more. Her face dropped as she watched him turn towards her again. This was not the same boy who had called her Mudblood or who sought to make her life a living hell every waking second. This was the man who watched her carefully in the Great Hall. The man who had checked on her when she was in Madame Pomfrey's care. He didn't know she knew that he had checked on her more than once during her stays. Madame Pomfrey was not quiet about the guests she had to shoo away. Hermione rose, the headache she was getting sending little waves of pain through her body. She stood for a moment bracing herself on the chair before she walked over to Draco and took his hands in hers. She turned them over and ran her fingers over the scarred porcelain before pulling him into a hug. He had been thrown off balance, but quickly regained it as his arms fell over her shoulders. They remained locked in each other's embrace for a few moments, lost in the thoughts of a different world. A world in which one was not hunted for being who he was.

"He can't settle that you're a different person," she said softly, her lips brushing against his milky flesh. "He won't accept that you are now who you always wished to be."

"Not everyone can," he replied, a thickness in his voice. "Not every wishes to see past who I was forced to be, Hermione," he pulled back a bit, brushing her hair from her eyes with his fingers. "What matters are those who can and those that do."

A smile spread across Hermione's face as she poked him in the ribs. "I've a massive headache starting. I'm going to take a bath and settle for bed. We can talk around the fire in an hour yes?"

Draco looked at the mantle clock and smiled. He had not realized how quickly time passed when he was with her. She made him forget his troubles and enjoy himself. As he always heard the muggles say, 'Time flies when you are having fun.' He issued her a nod as she disappeared into her quarters, emerging in a bathing robe with a towel draped over her arms. As she passed into the bathroom, the door shutting with a light click, Draco found himself watching her with an eager curiosity to understand her. She was complex; more complex than any female he had acquainted himself with either socially or physically. She through him for a loop and made him fight to understand her. He caught the faint scent of lavender as he returned to his quarters to ready himself for the night.

Draco stared into the silver pool of his pensieve, pleased he did not require its services for the night. Sleep would come to him quickly he felt. He moved from the object towards his dresser, draping an emerald silk robe over his skin as he glanced at the projection clock. Half-passed eleven. His black silk pajama bottoms caught the light from the waxing moon as he made way to the window. Without a glance toward the forest's edge he threw closed the curtains. His owl hooted softly, almost sympathetically as he watched his master limp through their quarter's door into the common room.

Lavender met his nostrils as he stepped into the room. He caught a slight movement and made his way toward the couch, leaning over and planting a playful kiss atop Granger's wet head. She jumped and looked up at him, justifiably startled, but settled as he made his way around to sit beside her. He expected a shove away as he made himself comfortable, but she did not. Instead she cuddled against him, the dampness from her hair seeping through the thin material. Before he would have thrown a fit, enraged not only with her touching him, but with the fact that she was ruining a very pricey silk robe, but not now.

"I'm sorry about earlier, Draco. If I could have stopped them…I would have."  
He found her apology unnecessary since she was not the one who denied him his place. She had given him one. "Don't apologize. You've always been right about my house. We are a bunch of selfish, two-faced bastards."

"I wasn't right about everyone," she replied as she gazed up at him.

"Well, maybe not everyone, but you were pretty close," he chuckled. He felt her shift her weight against him and he smiled. "Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had chosen Gryffindor. You know? I wonder how different things would have been."

"You probably wouldn't have been nearly as accepted," her voice was sleep-filled, her words slow.

"What's that supposed to mean, Granger?" he mocked offense.

"Only that you would have been as desirable as Ron and Harry."

Ouch. He was better looking than them…and far more interesting…right?

"If that doesn't make me feel better about myself," he joked as he shifted an inch to the side. His good leg was going numb.

"You know what I mean, Draco, so don't try to act like you don't," she murmured, repositioning herself until she was comfortable again. Draco ran his fingers through her hair as he looked to the clock on the mantle. "Maybe we can have dinner together…just you and I…" her voice trailed off as her breathing became shallow. Draco smiled as she curled up in his lap and carefully positioned himself on the couch, conjuring a pillow to put under his head as he slid himself beside her. He rested a pillow under her head and there they stayed. Draco gave one final glance to the mantel. It was well past midnight.

ooo

No one could hear their howls as they positioned themselves around the school, hidden deep within the forests. They would perfect their attack. Nothing could go wrong.


	7. Dancer in the Dark

Disclaimer: Harry Potter still isn't mine.

A/N: It's been over a year since I last updated and for that I am insanely sorry. Like before, this is for Brittasia—Happy Christmas, yet again. The chapter title is a song by The Rasmus. For best effect, listen to it while you read.

Ooo

**Escape**

Chapter Seven: Dancer in the Dark

Happiness was never something meant for Draco Malfoy. It seemed reserved for those born of mottled bloods, those with parentage lacking the credentials his held. Every moment of bliss he found was met with pain and the night prior was no different. Certainly he and Granger slept well on the couch in each other's arms, but the problems had not been there. No, he felt accepted by the very girl he tried so hard to avoid time and time over. The nightmares that infiltrated his pleasant dreams ate away at the feeling of being so…cherished. The residual? He wanted nothing to do with her; he wanted to be alone.

No words were shared during breakfast or in the halls while they were on duty together. Not once did she question his sudden shift in behavior. She seemed to accept it and respect the silence. For how long, he had no idea, but long enough for him to push aside the atrocities he witnessed within his mind as something from his past. He couldn't help but feel the overwhelming dread creeping up his spine every time he glanced towards the large doors of the main hall. Were they out there? Waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike him? To finish what it is they started so long ago?

Shuddering, Draco continued down the hall, periodically checking lecture rooms for any stragglers before releasing an exasperated sigh. He turned towards Hermione, clearly perturbed, and reached for her hand. Taking it within his, he found himself staring at the pettiness of her stature and how exquisite she really was, radiant really. He was undeserving of her affection…if she would even grant him it. "Hermione…I need to tell you something. I—"

"It's all right, Draco. Something's clearly on your mind and I am more than willing to give you the space you need to figure—" she was abruptly cut off by his lips on hers in a gentle, heartfelt kiss. At first her body went rigid, shocked by the very notion of his action. Was _he_, Draco Malfoy, kissing _her_, Hermione Granger? Were they really on duty and on the verge of necking? Just as she relaxed and returned the gesture, he backed away, almost ready to apologize. Shaking her head, a scolding look on her face, she pressed her finger over his lips. "Don't…apologize. Was that what you needed to tell me?" her voice clearly cracked and she did all she could to clear the buildup.

"No. I need to speak with you in a more…private setting. Tonight in the common room…I need your help figuring it out."

Ooo

McGonagall sat wearily at her desk, a small torn piece of parchment resting under her weathered hands. Time was running short for them and they were running out of resources. The Aurors had been called in to protect the school for as long as they could, but Minerva feared it would not be enough to save the boy they sought. The centaur's letter was specific and no doubt cost him his life, but for that she was eternally grateful. At least now they had more time to prepare for the war that was coming. The children had seen enough and yet…their tormenting thoughts were not at an end. Carefully folding the scrap and setting it inside of the top drawer of her desk, she looked back to the portraits on the wall. How she wished the sacrifice was not needed as she looked upon the portrait of Dumbledore. She knew he would have had a solution for the looming threat. Instead, she was presented the dire task of protecting the students from a creature so vile not even the bounds of injury prevented his actions. Time was running out…and yet it seemed like eternity.

Ooo

The mantle clock ticked steadily, the only consistency Hermione was finding in her world. With the threat of Fenrir's followers and the sudden outburst of emotion from her former arch nemesis, the normally cool-headed woman was finding herself spinning. Tapping the tip of her quill on the edge of her parchment, she reflected on the assignment for Divination and found her mind drawing more blanks than ever. What time was it? She looked to the clock and realized she had been staring to no avail at a blank parchment for the better half of three hours. Where was Draco though? Had he deliberately disobeyed the orders set for him by the headmistress and ventured out of their quarters unattended? Rising from her seat, she moved towards the heavy oak door and knocked, waiting patiently for a reply from the other side. When none was received…she admitted to a sense of fear washing over her. No longer concerning herself with the assignment, she barged into the bathroom only to find it empty. Now panic consumed her. He had said he would meet her in the common room when their shifts had concluded, yes? She was not losing her mind regarding that.

Just as she rested her hand on the knob of the door, Draco stepped from his room, sleep painting a visage on his features. Without warning, she ran over to him and hugged him, knocking him into the wall. It was an unexpected reaction.

"Hermione…what time is it?" his voice was thick with the after effect of sleep as he fell into a yawn, noting the concern in her eyes. It warmed him to know she cared so deeply for his safety.

"Far later than it should be considering! Draco, you had me scared to death! I thought you were being your typical stubborn self! Now, of all times, is not when you go about testing your independence once again, do you understand? They could _kill_ you! I couldn't live with myself if that happened!"

Well, that was shocking. Draco pulled her into a hug and held her, kissing the top of her head before stroking the wavy tendrils. He rested his chin atop her head, eyes closing as he thought on what he needed to say. "Speaking of being stubborn and testing one's independence, I want you to be accompanied at all times…I…had a dream last night that's left a sour taste in my mouth. If you need to go somewhere, you are not to go alone. That includes to the showers…I…I don't trust that someone isn't already inside the building."

"WHAT? What on earth do you mean? Do you think someone—" Draco silenced her with a finger, slowly leaning back to look into her eyes.

"I think it's possible…now more than ever…and I want you to be careful. No more telling Potter and the Weasel about Fenrir…"

Resentment danced over Hermione's face as she took a step back. "Are you saying you think one of them may be working in cohorts with Fenrir?"

Leaning his head against the wall in utter defeat, Draco sighed. "No, Hermione, but someone they know might be. Information needs to stay within us and the professors. If the wrong people hear that we know their plans…then we may be facing a far bigger disaster than we ever thought possible…possibly even bigger than the War." If as many of Fenrir's followers were surrounding the grounds as the centaur had let them know, over half of the students would be dead or turned before nightfall should they make their move. Draco could not…and would not…be responsible for that many deaths again.

Ooo

The unnerving silence caressed the woods as the hunters looked on, awaiting their commander's orders. Oh how they hungered for this meal, a deep unrelenting hunger that would not be satiated by the flesh of the wild beasts. No, they would only be content when the boy was theirs…when they could rip apart all those who wronged them. It would be a glorious victory. A bloody massacre fit for the history books as Hogwart's finally fell to the werewolves…as the last of the protectors died for their crimes committed against the Dark Lord and his people. A new Lord would rise from the ashes of the smoldering rock and timber…and they would serve him kindly, much as they did already. Praise and worship was not enough, no, not for him. He needed this victory…craved it…desired it…and this victory he would have…


End file.
